The puzzle without an answer
by Sweet Sammykins
Summary: Professor Layton is used to finding himself in curious situations, but this one is even more peculiar- and dangerous when the Family starts rampaging throughout London. But this time they won't halt, and he doesn't have an answer. So who does?
1. Chapter 1 Miss Perritt

The professor had to admit that his curiosity had, once again, gotten the better of him. A new book shop had opened up near the university, and under the pretence of going with Luke to the local sweet shop, he decided to pop in. After all, who knew what marvellous things lay inside? Once Luke had obtained his favourite chocolate bar, they made their way towards the shop and entered. The familiar smell of books and paper greeted them as the door creaked shut behind them, and the Professor felt oddly at home.

"Professor, are you looking for anything?" Luke asked eyes wide as he took in the shelves upon shelves of books, old and new, small and large.

"No my boy, but it never hurts to expand one's knowledge", the professor smiled at his young apprentice, who had already spotted a particular book on animals that had tickled his fancy. "And a man is as only as good as his wit."

"Uh-huh..." Luke replied, now completely absorbed in the book. He went to perch on a chair, and Layton smiled as he realised his feet didn't quite reach the floor.

How long would his apprentice remain just that? He didn't know, and for the moment, it didn't worry him, but the day would come when the boy's feet would touch the ground when he sat at the table, and he would be a young man. For now, he had to enjoy the boy's appetite for knowledge, and help him grow into a respectable young gentleman.

The Professor tried to shake these thoughts off, and began browsing the many books sitting in front of him, fingers poised ready to pick one that caught his attention. This was where he was at home... all he could think about was all the secrets these books held... now which one to start with...

He rounded a corner and began to check another shelf. Ancient architecture... perhaps...but today he was in the mood for something more fanciful...perhaps myths? Yes, he decided, mythology was today's medicine.

"Excuse me madam, but could you point me in the direction of the mythology books?" He asked a nearby assistant. She stopped reaching up to shelve a book and turned to smile up at him.

"Of course sir, we have the mythology over here in History", she answered, gesturing for him to follow her towards the section.

"Thank you very much."

As the assistant left him to peruse the selection of books on mythology, and he quite happily picked one before settling in a nearby armchair and sinking happily into it and the book. Yet, the attention he paid the book was rather short lived when he heard Luke's young, high pitched giggle. He looked up, curious to what could have caused Luke to laugh.

"Oh! Do they really do that? How strange!" He heard Luke cry with amusement.

His question was aimed at the girl, or rather, young woman sitting next to him, an animal book balanced on her lap carefully so that the both of them could read it comfortably. He presumed that she worked for the shop, as a small duster was tucked into the belt loops of the skirt she was wearing, and a small pile of books sat waiting at her feet, all mismatched and pristine, as if they were fresh from boxes. Luke then pointed at something in the book causing the girl to giggle, bright, wide eyes creasing slightly with her smile.

"Well, I wonder if animals think some of the things we do are strange too?" The girl asked, causing Luke to nod enthusiastically at her question.

The professor couldn't help but notice how pretty the girl was when she smiled. Or, to be brutally honest, even when she wasn't smiling. It wasn't in the traditional sense, but she just seemed so charming, almost like the fabled English Rose type; pale skin, light grey eyes and a dark caramel hair that fell loose in unruly curls despite her attempt to tie it back. Luke seemed to adore her at any rate, running off to find another book before returning to her, and settling beside her again so she could read with him. His attention now rest upon her as she took the new book Luke offered her, and began reading it out loud, her smile radiating through the prose whilst she animatedly impersonated the voices of the various characters. It seemed Luke's second choice for a book had been some fairy tale sort of affair, and the story was familiar and worn on the professor, but somehow, told by this girl, he found himself entranced by it once again.

Soon, their story had finished, and once again Luke had wandered off to find another book. The professor took this opportunity to introduce himself, as would be the proper conduct of an English gentleman.

"You do seem to have a knack for telling stories. I never thought I would find myself gripped to a fairy tale again," He smiled, and she chuckled lightly, slightly uncomfortable at his compliment. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Hershel Layton. I work at the University a little into the town as a Professor. "

"It's nice to meet you, I've heard lots about you. You are quite the celebrity Professor!" She allowed her smile to form a slight grin. "Though I must say, I always imagined the Professor Layton to be somewhat of a nomad with wild hair. And bad clothes."

Layton didn't quite know how to react to her joke, faltering for a reply. "I'm sorry I do not live up to your- I mean-". His stuttering earned him an apologetic smile.

"No, no, I apologise. I did not mean to be rude at all. I'm pleasantly surprised, rather. Its just after all the stories of treasure hunting and adventures – I thought..."

"Oh no, please forgive me, I am not used to such a reception! It is refreshing to meet someone with such a vivid imagination as yours, miss...?" He paused, prompting her to introduce herself.

"Er, Perritt. Miss Perritt," she stated bluntly, her soft expression suddenly searching.

"Well Miss Perritt, I'm afraid that I am not quite the rugged adventurer that the tabloids like to paint me as. I'm afraid, I'm rather too fond of a cup of tea to be off trekking through jungles."

He gave her a wink, and her expression softened once again, now that she had been reassured that he wasn't willing to intrude any further than polite introductions. Perritt... It was a simply ordinary name that he hadn't quite expected to hear, and the name sounded strange from her lips, but he supposed that he was letting his imagination get the better of him, just as she had done. Perhaps her first name would be a more revealing reflection of someone who seemed a little out of place in this quiet part of London, so he decided to ask for it. Before he could do so, he was interrupted by Luke's return.

"What do you think of Sherlock Holmes?" He grinned up at her.

The Professor gave a small sigh and a slight smile, and settled into his chair to listen as Miss Perritt took the book from Luke who looked feverish with anticipation.

"It is wonderful. I love mysteries."


	2. Chp 2 A Gentleman needs a Gentlelady

Layton sat in his office that evening, with only a dim light to read the book in front of him. He turned a page and sighed. He really ought to go home and see that Flora and Luke get their dinner, but somehow he felt distracted. He had been pondering over his earlier worry about Luke growing up, and why it had bothered him so much. After all, Luke was only visiting for a couple of months while the school he attended in America was shut for the summer. Watching him leave at the port had been difficult, but he and Flora had managed. Yet somehow he felt that if, or rather, when, he had to watch him leave again, it would somehow stagger him more than it had done the first time. And it was for this reason why he was sat in his office, baffled as to why he should be feeling like this. After a few minutes, he decided to give up reading the book, and snapped it shut, and began to leave for home.

He drove home carefully as twilight faded into night. There was nothing wrong with the boy growing up, of course, and he wasn't resentful of the fact. In fact, he was rather proud of the boy, and every day that pride grew and swelled inside of his heart. Flora, too, was growing into a beautiful young lady, and he was sure that he would be chasing off suitors for her affections soon.

That was when he realised, what had been bothering him. Before Luke and Flora had moved into his life, he had been a rather solitary man. All except for Claire, of course, but it doesn't do one well to linger in the past more than is necessary.

Not by choice you understand, but he had just never found a girl that captured his attention quite as much as his work. Luke had brought some much needed noise and laughter to his house, and Flora was his little princess. They were the children he never had, and filled the void an empty and lonely house created.

Pulling up in front of his modest house, he switched the engine off with a small click and rubbed a hand over his eyes, tired, and feeling annoyed and disappointed and the conclusion he had reached. The day would come, where they would embark on their own adventures, and lead their own lives. He adjusted his top hat, and wearily climbed out. Well, he would just have to enjoy the days until he would have to face his empty house, as no woman deserved a man who was constantly absorbed in his work. As much as he would like to court again, it wouldn't be fair on whoever wound up being his partner. For now, the house was full of smiles and warm light that poured through the mottled glass in the front door as he approached it.

"Professor!" Said door flew open before he reached it, and Luke raced out to greet his mentor. "You should see the pudding Flora has made! And I found a puzzle in the newspaper that –"

"Come now Luke, let's go inside where it is warm," Layton chuckled, removing his jacket. "We'll have a look at this puzzle after we eat dinner. We can't let Flora's efforts go to waste."

He ruffled Luke's hair, noting that he was still only small, and Flora wasn't much older. He had many years left before he had to face a completely empty house.

That evening, as they ate Flora's Sheppard's pie, Luke told Flora all about their visit to the book shop.

"I was rather hoping you would pick up some chocolate buttons for tonight's pudding", Flora said, disappointed that they had forgotten to run the errand that she had requested. "Instead I've had to make a cherry pie."

"I'm sure it is still lovely," The professor smiled, mouth slightly twitching. Her cooking had improved, but it was still a little rough around the edges, so to speak.

"I'm sorry Flora, we ended up reading lots of books with Miss Perritt", Luke said sheepishly. "She's brilliant at reading stories! Next time you can come along. I'm sure she'll even read one of those silly girly romances you like."

"They're not silly!" Flora blushed.

"Mind your words Luke, it is not becoming of a gentlemen," Layton warned. "Besides, you can't bother Miss Perritt too much. I'm sure she is very busy."

"But you liked her reading too, didn't you?" Luke asked, and the Professor felt any hopes of a reply slowly wither. "You were listening too. Even the fairy tales!"

Layton smiled and settled for a simple nod. He felt Flora's eyes slide over to his, a question burning on her lips. "Even the fairy tales? Wow, are you feeling alright Professor?"

"There is nothing wrong with the odd fairy tale," he defended, finding his cup of tea now infinitely more interesting.

"No, they're great!" Flora enthused. "But you're not really a fairy tale type of person, Professor."

"But she was a pretty lady." Luke added absently by way of explanation.

The Professor coughed lightly, before dabbing his mouth with his napkin, quite aware of the conclusion they were nearing at the pace of a runaway train. Luke and Flora paused as Luke's last words began to run through their minds, process and form into an idea.

"You don't think...?" Flora asked Luke.

Luke's face brightened with the biggest grin. "Does he?"

Flora giggled and the two of them faced Layton with curious, expectant expressions. The professor suddenly felt a growing sense of dread.

"You like Miss Perritt, don't you?" Luke exclaimed.

Why did these children have to be so bright?

"He's blushing!" Flora giggled, clasping her hands together. He was sure he wasn't. "He does! What is she like?"

"Now then, none of that, you have dinner to finish off. Are those vegetables I still see on your plate Flora?"

She waved him off, and turned to Luke who launched into a full description of Miss Perritt.

"She's pretty; she has curly light brown hair and smiles a lot. She's shorter than the professor, and taller than you."

"Ooh, let's go visit the store tomorrow!" Flora squealed. "I would like to meet her!"

"You two are letting your imaginations get the better of you," Layton said, looking neither of them in the eye. "A gentleman must always be polite to a lady, which is simply what I was doing."

"A gentleman needs a gentle lady," Luke muttered to Flora who couldn't keep a straight face.

"Right, I think I am just about ready for that cherry pie. Flora," The Professor said, trying to tactfully steer the conversation to a more comfortable area. He would rather suffer her cooking, than suffer their speculation.

Though, their gossip had been a rather fitting, and slightly worrying end to his ponderings earlier. He supposed his meeting with Miss Perritt had been the catalyst to his worrying, which beforehand had only been a slight twinge in the back of his mind. Now it had fully blossomed into images of himself rattling round an empty house, the table set for a solitary person, and a lone jacket and his old top hat on the coat rack rather than overflowing with scarves, hats and various jackets and coats. But somehow, when he thought of that gentle smile, however brief it had been, he could imagine dinner dates and picnics, dancing and laughter. He even allowed himself to fleetingly imagine waking up to it, edged with the lag of sleep, as her curly hair sprawled over the pillows.

He shook himself mentally. He told himself these were all dreams. But, a man could dare to dream. An even greater man can dare to make those dreams a reality.

* * *

><p>Despite their constant pleas to visit the store again, the Professor refused to go back. That was, until the urge for a new book caught him again a week later. Yes, a new book, that was all that he wanted, and nothing else. If Miss Perritt was there, that would be purely incidental.<p>

Luke and Flora were out for a walk, so he decided to use his time to browse for books. He thought a visit without them would be more prudent, after all, he had been known to lose himself in such establishments for hours on end, and he was prudent enough not to test their patience. His entry to the shop was accompanied by the gentle tinkle of bells.

"Good morning, welcome to Penny and Quill's – Oh, hello Professor." Miss Perritt greeted him, struggling with a stack of books.

The professor started forward to help her with the precariously balanced books, but she placed them neatly behind the counter before he could get even a step closer.

"How may I help you today?"

"How do you do Miss Perritt? I have finished my last book, and am feeling the need to pick up another book completely."

"I know the feeling," she said, resting her elbows on the counter. "I feel rather empty if I don't have something to dip into. Do feel free to have a look around. I'm sure that there is something hiding in here which is your cup of tea."

She had vanished before he could say another word. No matter, it was a new book he was in need of, and she had her shop duties to be getting on with. He quickly pushed his absent day dreams of picnics and dancing and found a book on archaeology that amazingly he had not encountered before, and began to absently flick through it. Somewhere in France there had been an interesting discovery of coins and other bits of treasure, such as an old diadem that author seemed particularly keen to write about. It had three hollows, presumably for jewels, but the jewels were missing.

It seemed as if Miss Perritt had plenty to do. The tap of her shoes as she bustled around the store seemed to snare his attention and he often found himself drifting out of the book. She passed him a few times, sometimes with a teetering stack of books, sometimes with a duster and once with her nose buried in a book which must've have caught her eye. Whenever her duties carried her past him, he caught the faint smell of vanilla and cinnamon before she vanished behind another shelf. Back to his book. The diadem was missing three jewels, which hadn't been found yet.

She started shelving a few books by his elbow, smiling apologetically for disturbing his reading. The diadem was missing three jewels. They hadn't found them yet...Miss Perritt stretched upwards, brushing his elbow as she lost her balance a little and regained it again. The diadem was missing three jewels...and they hadn't...blast it.

"Forgive me for being forward, but that perfume you are wearing is delightful."

Why did he say that? That sounded more than a little odd. He should of started with a 'how has she been faring?' or a 'this weather has been good recently'. Unsurprisingly, she jumped at his sudden voice.

"Thank you, but I'm not wearing perfume at all. With all these books, perfume normally gets drowned in that new book smell," she said by way of explanation.

Now he looked particularly odd. He tried to think of something that would hopefully sway the conversation from the realms of creepy back into normality. Back to being polite and gentlemanly. Something that would stop her looking so awkward.

"Professor?" she asked, looking puzzled at his vacant expression. Apparently, he was favouring an idiotic approach rather than his usual gentlemanly one

"So sorry miss, I find myself in my own world time to time. The new book smell is still quite a lovely smell."

"Yes, I agree", she nodded, and that lovely smile returned. Luckily, she was either finding this conversational topic far more stimulating than he originally anticipated it would be, or she was showing him a considerable amount of patience.

"So, do you work here full time miss?" Simply polite conversation. That is what a gentleman does, no?

"For the most part yes, I am hoping to get a job as a teacher soon"

"How wonderful, I assure you it is a fulfilling job. What area is it you hope to teach?"

"Well, I haven't quite decided yet. I quite like a number of things. I suppose I ought to hurry up and pick a field!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say there is such a rush. Part of the fun of growing up is finding what interests you the most. I never would have originally considered myself as Professor material, but just look at what happened." He smiled and she nodded in agreement.

"So how did you find yourself in a teaching position then?" she asked.

"Well, it is a rather long story," He replied, pausing as a idea formed in his head. He considered it for a second. "Though I would be more than happy to tell you it if you agree to allow me to take you out for dinner."

There. Now he had said it, put his small little idea into action. He shouldn't bother pretending that he had entered the shop merely for the pleasure of books.

Her reply was a round of lovely peals of laughter. He didn't know whether to feel rejected, or whether he had actually flattered her.

"I'm sure you are just humouring me!" A faint blush had tinted her cheeks, and she shifted her weight, growing uncomfortable at the idea that he may not have been entirely serious.

"Not at all Miss Perritt. I would love to accompany you to dinner."

She blinked back at him with wide, her hand curled on her chest, considering her reply. It was all he could do to offer her a smile until her face broke out into a smile that made the breath in his throat catch.

"In that case, I shall take you up on your offer, Professor."

"Marvellous", he said, hoping that he didn't look too relieved at her answer. "But may I ask you something Miss Perritt?"

"Yes?"

"It would be lovely to hear your first name."

"Oh!" she gasped, realising that she had never told him. "Well...it's Leonie."


	3. Chapter 3  Butterflies

The rest of the day for Leonie passed in a blur of wandering thoughts and secret sighs. Books slipped from her fingers as she went about her work, earning her disapproving looks from her colleague, Mrs Potter. But she couldn't help it. It was as if her mind couldn't help but worry and think about the Professor.

"Really, dear. It can't be doing the books or your poor feet any good to keep doing that", Mrs Potter called from the other side of the shop when she heard a particularly big volume land on Leonie's toe, causing her to hiss out in pain.

"I'm sorry. I don't know where my head is today."

Mrs Potter gave her glasses a tweak, a knowing twinkle showing in her eyes. Leonie gave an exhausted smile. The elderly Mrs Potter may have been the most timid and gentle looking elderly lady she had ever met, but Leonie knew that she was a lot more sharper and shrewd than initial appearances would lead one to believe.

"I suppose it isn't too far away from a certain gentleman in a top hat", Mrs Potter speculated, very well knowing that she hit the mark. Leonie gave a small nod in reply.

"Perhaps."

"You should act a little happier, pumpkin! You should see the line of young ladies who swoon after that professor."

"I know- it's not that, he is very charming after all," she reasoned to herself. She wasn't sure why she had to even reason at all though; it wasn't as if she didn't like the man. "But, I wonder how I let myself agree to dinner with a man who always winds up in the type of trouble I am trying to avoid."

Mrs Potter put down the book she was examining and studied Leonie carefully.

"There is nothing to say that all that business will pop up here. The professor never need find out about all of that – after all, you've started a new life, haven't you?"

Leonie bit her lip, a frown forming a well in her forehead. Yes, she had moved away from all the trouble, but it didn't mean that it couldn't follow her. That was her greatest fear, and any sort of association with the professor, someone quite famous within the country, was bound to shine a spotlight on her that she would much prefer left her well alone.

"The newspapers worry me. There seems to be an unusually high number of burglaries being reported at the moment. I can't help but think if it's the-"

"Hush girl." Mrs Potter interrupted. "You have an over active imagination. You should put it to better use, rather than using to fret over things. You'll make your hair curl even more if all you do is worry!"

Mrs Potter gave a small chuckle, and Leonie joined in rather half-heartedly. Despite Mrs Potter's reassurance, she couldn't shake the feeling that the ominous news reports were somehow connected to her old life. Yet she couldn't prove this, so all she had to do was worry about the Professor. A thought suddenly struck her.

"I can't believe I told him my name!" Leonie shrieked, hands flying to her face. "I'm such a fool!"

"Oh shush. I don't think it should matter."

"But if the newspapers spot us- they'll want to know who I am...oh, what am I going to do?" Leonie fretted, running her hands through her hair, wincing as she caught the tangled knots in her fingers. What if after all the effort Mrs Potter had made to take Leonie in and keep her safe, it had been Leonie who had exposed herself?

"What makes you think the world would be so interested in the Professor's love life? The newspapers have better things to talk about."

"L-love life?" Leonie spluttered. "I don't think- i-it's not like that!"

"Oh, now that imagination really has got carried away with itself! Think pumpkin- the man must want to talk to you about more than just career advice."

Leonie couldn't argue with that. And she may have tried to have think it would have been for something different, but she couldn't come up with a single reason that withstood logic. As a welcome? No- after all, who does that in London? Was he looking for a teaching assistant? Possibly – but he would have arranged an interview, not a dinner date. Perhaps she just had difficulty in coming to terms with the fact that he may possibly like her. She turned back to the shelf she was currently tidying, trying to calm herself.

"Well, I sincerely hope the papers have more interesting things to talk about. He may know my first name, but my surname he doesn't. And I can't rely on a fake name forever."

Mrs Potter wandered over, holding a cup of tea and a plate of homemade biscuits.

"I'm positive that you are fretting yourself over nothing pumpkin. All you have to worry about it getting ready to impress this gentleman on your dinner date!"

Leonie gave a weak smile, and took the tea from Mrs Potter, along with a single biscuit. She wasn't hungry, but she hoped it would calm the butterflies in her stomach, even if she knew the butterflies of her mind wouldn't settle with merely a cup of tea.

* * *

><p>The Professor hadn't known he was incapable of dressing himself for a dinner. Well, not until Flora had taken it upon herself to tell him such, and then proceeded to inspect the contents of his wardrobe for any suitable candidates of clothing.<p>

"I can't believe you went without me!" She sighed, taking out a blue shirt and inspecting it, before placing it back inside the wardrobe. "I really wanted to meet her! Don't do that again professor!"

"It is rather odd being scolded by someone who has to stand on a chair to reach the clothes in my wardrobe", Layton chuckled.

She ignored him and carried on pulling clothes out at a furious pace. "Oh, I bet it was so romantic too!"

Luke padded into the room in his socks, watching Flora curiously as she worked her way through the wardrobe. He had apparently forgotten the newspaper that he held in his hands. "What's wrong with what the Professor normally wears?"

Flora turned to Luke, an appalled expression greeting him. "A gentleman has to make an effort for a lady!"

"That is correct," Layton interjected, hoping to avoid an argument between the two. "A gentleman must make himself presentable for a lady. It would be rude not to after she has put so much effort into her appearance herself."

Luke nodded sagely, apparently soaking in this smidge of gentlemanly wisdom. He knew Luke would take fashion advice more readily from himself than from Flora. The boy looked up to his mentor, and it was clear that Luke would one day turn into a perfect gentleman. But he had much to learn, and for that the Professor loved him even more. He rather liked the idea of being a role model for the young boy, much like a father.

"Oh! Professor, I have a puzzle for you- I almost forgot!" Luke said suddenly, shaking himself out of his reverie, grinning widely and handing Layton the paper he had brought.

"Oh, he really doesn't have the time for this Luke", Flora said, throwing yet another piece of clothing onto the Layton's bed when it failed to pass her strict test. "He has to pick Leonie up and be at the restaurant in less than an hour!"

"I'm afraid she is right again Luke. Save it for tomorrow, and we can solve it when we aren't so pressed for time."

"Okay", he replied happily, starting to fold the paper up."Flora, how about that shirt to your right? Isn't that smart enough?

"Wise choice my boy", Layton said, ruffling the boy's hair as he stood and relieved Flora of her task. He was starting to worry that he wouldn't be able to find his bed if she carried on dismantling his wardrobe the way she was. To be truthful, he just wanted to get ready and get going; he had never been one who often felt nervous, but he was having difficulty in suppressing the butterflies in the pit of his stomach. Even if the shirt had been an abrupt and outrageous one, he would have probably taken it, so was the extent of his nerves.

"So...", Flora started, and the Professor dreaded to find out what sort of question was hanging off the edge of that curious tone. "Will you kiss her?"

"Ah..."

"Flora, will you stop being so disgusting!" Luke piped in, screwing up his nose and sticking out his tongue in a youthful gesture of distaste. "You read too many romantic books. You should read Sherlock. Or try some more puzzles."

"You haven't answered my question Professor!" she chirped, ignoring Luke. "Will you get her flowers? Will you hold her hand? What about-"

"Now, now Flora- like you said, I haven't got the time for such questions. I can't keep a lady waiting." The Professor decided that tact is the best solution to this predicament. And there was a substantial amount of truth to it; he was well aware of the impatient ticking of the clock.

"But I'm a lady too..." she pouted. Luke rolled his eyes and Layton couldn't help the smile the spread across his features. Yes, these two were still a lady and gentleman in training, not that he would have it any other way.

"Then I shall not keep you waiting. Tomorrow I shall tell you how the evening went," he smiled. "But at the moment, it would be terribly rude of me to keep another young lady waiting."

His thoughts momentarily flickered to Leonie and that beautiful smile. If his face gave any hint as to the flurry of butterflies this sent through him than Flora gracefully chose not to highlight it. A lady in training, but one who was well on her way.

He quietly prepared, was given one last inspection by Flora, who approved wholly of his orange shirt and black tie attire, and was soon hurrying out of the front door, Luke and Flora waving him off. Flora had given up on her questions, realising that her constant stream of thoughts and ponderings were hindering the course of what she considered to be a very sweet and romantic situation. Layton couldn't quite relate to such feelings presently.

It was rather hard to consider the constant pounding of his heart in his ears and his feverish worry as romantic. Perhaps he should think of it as simply a dinner with an acquaintance. But that was terribly difficult to do when his previous day dreams of picnics and laughter and sleepy morning smiles seemed to seep into any logical thought he might have, jarring his senses and encouraging his heart to continue to thunder in his ears. It was worrying for a gentleman to have such persistent thoughts. He really needed a cup of tea...

He stopped off at the florist on his way, to pick up a simple but elegant bouquet of blue and white flowers. He tipped his hat to the shopkeeper as he left, before noticing how the sky was beginning to turn inky to welcome the night. He hurried his journey, not wanting to leave a lady waiting outside in the dark. He pulled up a road away from their arranged meeting place at the train station. As the engine slowly wound down to a halt, he took one invigorating breath of air, and made his way towards the lights and sounds, and the distant but unmistakable figure of Leonie.

It was the only time he had known of butterflies to appear at night.


	4. Chapter 4 The London Smoke

It was amazing, Leonie thought, how even though she was surrounded by the smoke and sounds of busy London town in the evening, she felt like she was in a little sphere all of her own, and the evening sky was just a backdrop. She was waiting by the train station at the top of the stairs, absently watching the crowds and jolting every time she saw a glimpse of orange clothing, or mistakenly saw a top hat (she noted with some disappointment that no one seemed to wear top hats very much anymore). Everyone looked slightly worn and tired after their busy day full of busy things, yet Leonie felt so alert, so nervous. She found that no matter how much she tried to appear casual and relaxed, her skittish frame seemed to stick out like a sore thumb from the crowd. Perhaps her choice of attire did not help; a pale blue summery dress and a short white cardigan tied into a neat bow at the front seemed out of place amongst the suits and elegant dresses of the townspeople surrounding her. The thought of being obvious alarmed her, but she reassured herself that no one was paying any attention to her apart from the occasional glance.

That was until she spotted the Professor's top hat bobbing through the crowds in the distance. Leonie could see the Professor approaching from her vantage point, and the closer he approached, the more she found herself fiddling with her dress, pointlessly trying to tuck her hair behind her ears. She mentally scolded herself for acting like a schoolgirl, and lifted her face to better greet him, but in seeing that he was clutching a lovely bouquet of flowers she found her resolve withering again and she slipped into an enthusiastic examination of her shoes. She really did wonder where her usual bravery and confidence had disappeared to.

"Good evening, Miss Perritt". She jumped at his suddenly close voice, face flying upwards. "Might I say, you look absolutely lovely this evening."

"Professor!" she squeaked, as if he had caught her misbehaving.

"Please, call me Hershel," he smiled, "I think we can allow ourselves to be on first name terms."

"In that case, please call me Leonie," she smiled back, feeling the slight burn of a blush linger on her cheeks. But she felt some her usual confidence settle itself into her frame, albeit a little shaken by the look he was giving her.

It was curious, and expectant, almost as if he was holding his breath. Leonie wondered if he was expecting her to say something, but before she could even think of anything reasonable to say, he smiled gently, shaking his head.

"Oh, forgive me, where are my manners?" He lifted the almost forgotten flowers up and did an odd little bow as he presented them to her. "These are for you."

For a second she was too surprised to act, and simply stared at the dainty flowers, as if she had never seen flowers before. She couldn't recall ever having been given flowers in the past. It was...nice.

"These are so beautiful", she finally said, eyes relaxing as she took the flowers and held them to her nose to catch the delicate fragrance they held. "Thank you, but you really didn't need to go to such trouble."

"Nonsense. It is frightfully rude not to present a lovely lady with a bouquet when accompanying her for dinner. Besides", he plucked a blue flower from the bottom of the bunch and tucked it into the hair by her ear. "They do seem to go well with your lovely summer dress now, don't they?"

Leonie couldn't quite keep eye contact with him. A gentleman? A smooth talker more like! But perhaps that is what a gentleman is at the heart of things. Someone who effortlessly makes you feels comfortable, which perhaps, she thought, is just what she needs right now. But part of her was telling her that comfortable was dangerous, comfortable meant letting your guard down. Yet that voice, that lingering warning was drowned out by the feel of his arm looped in hers as they walked, how he was trying to slow down his naturally larger strides to accommodate her smaller ones and the gentle hum of his voice as they spoke casually of the weather and books they enjoyed.

She realised her lips had curled into a small smile and it seemed as if all her sense has been knocked out of her by the frantic beat of her heart. The voice warning her to keep her walls up seemed to wither with every footstep, every smile they shared, and every lingering glance. By the time they had reached the restaurant, Leonie couldn't remember what she had been worrying about, intrigue and wonder growing in her mind instead.

Intrigue and wonder though, seemed to be on the Professors mind also, meaning conversation when they arrived at the restaurant wasn't as easy as she had hoped. Not for a lack of conversational material, no, there was plenty of that, it was just that, well, to put simply, it was difficult trying to chat normally without slipping any odd details about herself. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him about herself, but rather that in doing so she may be putting herself and a number of other people at risk. But the business of conducting pleasant conversation riddled with cover-ups and secrets was difficult, and now that they were sat alone by a window, away from the noise and the people, his attention on her suddenly seemed excruciating.

"So Leonie, tell me, where do you come from? You seem to lack the air of a Londoner, not that that is a bad thing, of course", the professor asked politely, his menu lying untouched in front of him. Leonie hesitated, carefully opening her menu to pause for time.

"Well, it is a small town, quite far away," she answered. Her walls had come back up, meaning he need not know which town, nor that she moved from there when she was very young, so young in fact that she hadn't yet learnt to walk. "But I much prefer the city."

Not a lie, but not the full truth. She had always lived on the outskirts of London, enough to be out of the bustle, but close enough to know it well. She couldn't quite understand what he meant by lacking the air of a Londoner. She probably knew the streets better than most of the people sitting in this restaurant right now. Perhaps she looked a little odd compared to them?

"So what town is that? One I would have heard of?" he asked, absently opening his menu without looking at it.

"Oh, probably not", she laughed. Still not a lie. "So did you have a good day teaching today then?"

"Why, yes, it was wonderful, we are studying the remnants of various pottery found along the south coast. It is very interesting, though I hasten to add that my students probably don't quite share the same level of enthusiasm that I do." He chuckled, and Leonie found herself smiling. "Oh, but that reminds me, you expressed an interest in teaching, didn't you?"

Oh...had she? She recalled their previous meeting in the bookshop, and she gave herself a mental ticking off. Her mouth must have run ahead of her mind; that was the truth, and she was thankful that it was at least a harmless one. Perhaps it wouldn't matter if she let him in on that particular secret of hers. Besides, she didn't like lying. Or telling half truths. They're notoriously difficult to keep up with.

"I did indeed. But it is something that is unobtainable, sadly."

She gave a dejected sigh, before eyeing the menu, avoiding his eyes and any probing questions. Perhaps talking about food would be better.

"Not at all, I cannot see why not. What is it that you wanted to teach?"

A small battle began in her mind as to whether she should lie or simply tell him the truth. To cover up her hesitation, she examined the menu without actually reading it. "Ooh¸ that sounds lovely...oh, I'm sorry, what was your question?", she asked, looking up from the menu for a brief moment.

"What did you want to teach my dear?"

"Well, you see, that's...," she tried to find some formulation of words that would pass as a reasonable explanation as to why she couldn't say, but instead she found that her mouth had once again grown impatient and blurted out the real answer. "Art."

"How interesting!" the professor cheerfully exclaimed. Leonie searched his face for any sign of falseness, but either he was accustomed to faking pleasantries, or he was genuinely interested. Either one of those didn't seem particularly appealing to Leonie, the former because it meant she was boring him, the latter because it was confusing why a man interested in history and archaeology would be interested in a conversation that threatened to go into the territory of painting and sketching. Leonie felt the warnings murmur in her head again. This man was a detective of sorts. Perhaps it would do her well to bear this in mind.

"So do you practise it then?" He asked, oblivious to the waiter who seemed to be hovering nearby.

"Not as much as I would like," she confessed. "And I really wouldn't be able to teach it- I hardly know any art history."

Leonie thought that her lack of historical knowledge was probably the more suitable explanation she could give. Her lack of qualifications and experience was probably more likely to put a dampener on any teaching ambitions, but she was sure the curious Professor would then ask why she held no such qualifications. The only answer she would be able to give would be another lie to weave into her already huge web of secrecy, and she really didn't want another to keep a track of. Sometimes, she found it hard to believe that her livelihood had been all secrets and lies.

Before her thoughts could sink any lower, she noticed the waiter fidgeting uncomfortably, not knowing whether to cut in.

"I believe we shouldn't keep this gentleman waiting Hershel," she smiled at the waiter. "Apologies – I do end up in my own little world sometimes."

The professor ordered first, as Leonie pretended to have some trouble deciding what she would like. She took as long as she could without being rude, before finally picking the carbonara. Once the waiter had taken their orders, she played nervously with her napkin, trying to think of something safe to say. She wished she had asked for the specials, just to keep the waiter there for a bit longer.

"So can I see some of your art one day?" The Professor asked, taking his own napkin and placing it on his lap. "What do you like painting?"

"Portraits", she said automatically, mentally wincing at her lack of caution. "People are so...interesting. Even the plainest and most ordinary of people have something to capture on paper- a story. I like to imagine what those stories are."

This had probably been the truest thing she had said all evening. It was probably one of the few things she could talk about and be utterly honest. Portraits fascinated her to no end, and she found that she couldn't say anything but. Imagining the stories behind people really drove her to study the people she painted or sketched. It made her think of their lives outside of the small frame of time she was giving them. Their ordinary lives – interesting still, not necessarily boring, but safe and ordinary. She couldn't help but let those ordinary lives pull her in, even if it was for fleeting moments.

Like even now, she could make a story about the people in the restaurant. She nodded at two business men sitting not too far from them.

"See those two? They look tired, but satisfied. When I look at them, they're best buddies at work, having a good rest. They're celebrating a project well done."

The professor's eyes twinkled, catching onto this new game. "Fascinating... how about that table there?"

He tipped his head at a table in the centre of the room, a family with a little girl.

"They are here because it was Dad's turn to cook, and he burnt the dinner. He is a soft touch with his daughter, and took her here because they serve her favourite pudding."

As she said the words, the girl took a big bite of the ice cream sundae in front of her, her dad sneaking the cherry from his onto hers.

The professor laughed, and Leonie couldn't help but grin coyly at him.

"You're very good at this game! I can't say I would've come up with anything quite like that." He said once his laughter has subsided. "One last one, just to test you. Those two, by the window."

Leonie looked over at the couple her was referring too, and then felt quite embarrassed to be doing so. They were a young couple, looking quite nervous to be in each other's presence. They were eating much more slowly than one normally eats, partly because they talking to each other, but mainly because when the chatting faded, their eyes lingered on the other, smiles quivering on the corners of their lips.

"These two...are on their very first date. They very much like each other, but they're trying not to show it. They want to find out as much as they can about the other. He is looking at her, and still trying to work out how he managed to persuade such a beautiful girl to go to dinner with him.

There was no laughter, even as the man by the window looked at the girl, complete adoration written on his face, proving her point. Instead, when she looked back at the Professor, she found that he was giving her much the same look.

"They sound rather like us, don't you agree?" he said softly.

As he said it, she realised that he had picked the couple as a gentle way of explaining himself.

But before she could even begin to think of a reply, the door of the restaurant burst open, violently, and bounced off the wall so viciously that the glass in it cracked. Everyone in the restaurant jumped, staring at the black clad strangers entering, all sporting sunglasses despite the evening being dark already. There was a round of gasps as one pulled a gun from his side, and warily looked round the restaurant.

"You know what to do", he told his colleagues, who quickly sprung into action, spreading to various parts of the restaurant with large plastic cans, upturning tables as they went.

The professor stood up suddenly, panic glistening in his eyes. He reached out for Leonie's hand and pulled her out of seat. "We need to go right now", he said, any traces of their previous conversation gone.

Leonie didn't need to be told twice. She already knew what was going to happen, and she suspected that the professor already knew too. They hastily started exiting, the professor keeping hold of her hand as they weaved through the tables and other people, who cottoned onto the danger they were suddenly in when the men started pouring the contents of the plastic cans out and over every surface they could. The stench of petrol was unmistakeable.

Everyone rushed outside, and not a moment too late. Just as the restaurant owner had stepped out, the mysterious figures set the restaurant alight. They stormed out as quickly as they had entered, stopping to scan the terrified crowd. Leonie felt herself trying to shrink behind the Professor, certain that one of the men would spot her and drag her away to god knows where.

The building became engulfed in the alarmingly quick fire, creaking and crumbling as the flames licked and splintered the structure. The glass windows cracked and shattered as the roar of the inferno burst into the night air, the poisonous smog creeping spiralling and seeping into the night time fog.

Leonie tried to calm the cold dread that was creeping through her as the crowd scattered and screamed around them, sirens wavering in distance. The group of men tried not to flinch at the sound of the approaching police, but they obviously were perturbed enough to discontinue their violent search. The leader gave one last scan of the crowd before signalling to his colleagues, who all slinked into the chaos of people. Leonie hadn't realised she had stopped breathing until they had disappeared back into the crevices of London.

"Are you OK my dear?"

Leonie tore her eyes away from the retreating group to the Professor who had his hands wrapped around her shoulders, worriedly examining her vacant expression. His question broke the seal she had on her lungs, and she inhaled shakily, losing control and letting the fear that she was holding back creep into her brow and eyes.

"Y-yes", she managed.

"I am glad for that", he muttered, eyes closing with some small sense of relief.

But even as he offered her his jacket to help her with the shock, she couldn't help but look at the flames, and the scene of terrified people silhouetted against the smouldering building. It was all a violent reminder why she needed to keep her secrets.

The smoke of London town was suddenly not as magical as it was earlier.


End file.
